


First Christmas

by EmiRaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Christmas, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiRaye/pseuds/EmiRaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baby Hamish's first Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Christmas

"John do we really need a tree?"

"Yes we do."

"But where would we put it? Wouldn't it make a mess? More hassle than it's worth?"

"Sherlock Holmes. It is Hamish's first Christmas and we _will_ have a tree."

"But-"

"And then, we will put presents under that tree. And on Christmas morning we will open those presents by the tree and then we will take a family picture in front of that tree. Okay?"

"......Are we going to wear ridiculous matching jumpers?"

"Don't tempt me."

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Sherlock was sat on the floor in front of the small tree he and John had put up in between the sitting room windows. It wasn’t so bad, he supposed. He had agreed to help decorate the flat if John allowed him to pick the tree topper. Which is how his skull ended up secured to the top branch, a child sized Santa hat taped to it.

 John was retrieving Hamish from his nursery upstairs. Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade had stopped by earlier for Christmas breakfast and were now sitting in the armchairs by the fire and trying to persuade Sherlock to put on the antlers for yet another Christmas. 

Sherlock was glaring at the offending headband still when an excited cry followed by two sets of giggles was heard coming from the room above. Moments later, thumps on the stairs indicated that John was slowly carrying down their son and singing to him.

 

" _Jingle bells! Jingle bells! Jingle all the way!_

_Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh!_

_HEY!_ ”

 

The thudding steps on the stairs paused and delighted giggles echoed in from the hall. And then John started the song up again.

 

“ _Dashing through the snow_

_In a one horse open sleigh_

_Over the fields we go_

_Laughing all the way!_

_Ha! Ha! Ha!_ ”

 

John’s exaggerated laugh caused Hamish to burst into giggles again and his father followed suit. They reached the landing and soon appeared in the door way. John held a still-giggling Hamish, wearing green and red striped pajamas with a small matching elf hat perched on his light curls, out in front of himself with a "Ta-da!" John himself was wearing a ridiculous ( _festive_ _Sherlock_!) jumper with a Santa hat on his head.

Mrs. Hudson laughed at the site of them and turned to Sherlock. 

"Oh please Sherlock? If you won't wear them for us wear them for Hamish!"

Chuckling, Greg added, "Yeah Sherlock! Santa needs his elf AND his reindeer for Christmas!" and he tossed the red headband to his friend.

Sherlock gave a defeated sigh and placed the antlers on his head, trying to ignore the triumphant grins that spread across his land-lady and partner’s faces. There was the sound of a camera shutter clicking. Sherlock turned to Greg who didn’t bother pretending to look apologetic.

John walked to Sherlock and handed Hamish over, kissing both of his boys on their foreheads before walking to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. Sherlock sat his son between his legs and the child leaned back against his stomach. Hamish leaned his head back to look up at Sherlock and Sherlock smiled at his son. He bent forward to kiss the curl that was escaping the little hat at Hamish’s temple. He rested his cheek on his son’s head as the little boy started to babble excitedly, looking at the decorated tree.

* * *

 

          Half an hour later Hamish was happy and fed and Molly had arrived with a few small wrapped bundles for Hamish. Mycroft arrived soon after with a large box wrapped in brightly colored paper.

          With the strange little family all gathered around, John deemed it time to open gifts.

* * *

 

          _Why can’t children open their presents all at once?_

Sherlock watched as Hamish occupied himself with a strip of particularly crinkly paper. It had been an hour since John had started to play “Santa”, passing gifts around the room. Hamish was on his second gift but seemed more interested in inspecting every piece of tape and paper that came away instead of just ripping the paper off like Sherlock vaguely remembered doing as a child.

          Though Sherlock couldn’t be annoyed after seeing the absolutely delighted look on his son’s tiny face as John peeled away some tape and stuck it to the infant’s fingers.

          Molly and Greg had moved to the sofa and were both taking pictures and video on their phones. Sherlock made a mental note to ask them to share the files.

          Almost another hour later and Hamish had, with “assistance” from his fathers, unwrapped half of his gifts. He was currently sitting on John’s lap and playing with a box while Sherlock was on the phone trying to find a place that was open and willing to deliver lunch. Mrs. Hudson was passing cookies to Mycroft who had stopped trying to decline. Molly and Greg were trying to assemble a walker toy together.

* * *

 

           The sitting room was a mess. Bright wads of paper were strewn across the floor as well as boxes and toys.

          Sherlock carefully walked around the room, softly playing a Christmas medley on his violin. John was relaxing in his chair, one hand hold his and his son’s hats. The other was resting on the back of Hamish’s head, his thumb lightly tracing circles. Hamish squirmed slightly in his sleep, his tiny fist coming up to rub his face as he yawned.  John smiled and moved his hand to rub Hamish’s back. He really didn’t mind being used as a mattress.

* * *

 

          Molly and Mrs. Hudson entertained Hamish while his father’s cleaned up the Christmas debris.

            It wouldn't have taken them long if John hadn’t started a paper fight. Eventually they were breathless from laughing and called a truce. Grabbing the bow stuck to the wad of paper in his hand, John pulled Sherlock into a hug, stretching up to kiss him. While Sherlock was occupied with this distraction, John lightly stuck the bow to his curls. Their guests watch in amusement.

          Once things had been sufficiently tidied, John fetched his camera and a small tripod (a gift to himself) and called everyone over for pictures. He took pictures of every one in every arrangement he could think of (Somehow he miraculously got the Holmes brothers to stand together and not look like they were about to die. Or kill the other.) before telling them to arrange themselves for a group portrait.

          Setting the timer for one minute, he joined them. Sherlock sat on the floor with Hamish standing on his thigh. John knelt just behind them and wrapped them both in a hug, resting his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder. Their friends stood in close behind them and the flash warning on the camera began to blink in a count down.

          “Smile!” he called just before the shutter clicked.

* * *

 

          Their guests had gone home an hour ago, leaving the little family of three to have the rest of Christmas to themselves.

          Hamish had finally shown interest in his actual presents. He was very focused on fitting blocks into the correct holes, beaming when he got it correct and John cheered. Sherlock chucked and continued to record the moments on his phone.

          As the sun set, Hamish began to rub at his tired eyes.

          “Oh I think someone’s ready for bed. Sherlock, do you want to take him up and I’ll put things away? I’ll be up in a few minutes to help tuck him in.”

          Sherlock nodded and got up from his chair to pick up his son. Hamish immediately snuggled up to his chest and closed his eyes. Sherlock exchanged a content smile with John before walking into the hall and up the stairs.

          John came up a moment later, bearing the small bear that Mrs. Hudson had crocheted for Hamish. Sherlock was swaying and rocking Hamish and humming  “Silent Night”. John leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight before him before Sherlock finished humming the refrain and turned to him.

          “Look your dad’s here. Time to say good night, little one.” Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his son’s head, Sherlock laid Hamish in his crib. He stepped slightly to the side to let John come up and sit the bear in the corner of the crib. John brushed his fingers through the short curls and leaned in to kiss Hamish’s cheek.

         “Goodnight, my little elf. Happy Christmas.”

          


End file.
